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2013.08.13 - HALO Old Friend
It's been... a long time. Spartan's story of how he got here is long, complicated, and not at all like the others of his kind who came down in the crash. Yohn left the ship, but only after leaving his mind behind in one of the warbots, securing it on the Dreadnought to make certain the Daem did not come after it in orbit. A century later, long after the last of the Kheran's had left the crippled starship for earth far below, it crashed. Yohn, long assumed dead by this point, was gone. And the ship was buried for millennia on end. Kheran's rose and fell in power, their legends of combat prowess and leadership helped drag Man from the dark and into the light, bringing civilizations and rules, only to watch the Daem survivors of their craft drag it all back down again. Time and again. And still, Spartan slumbered, trapped in the destroyed ship. Unaware. Until only a year ago a battle between heroes and madmen uncovered the ship and activated it's security protocols, summoning the warbot out to defend it's home. Realizing where he was, what had happened, Spartan was at a loss... And so, a new friend, a hero, sent him hurtling back through time to seek out others of his race. And so he managed to live, thousands of years, without ever having actually been meant to. Decades ago the WildCATs came and went, short lived and doomed from the start, they did good but not enough, and the covert nature of their team often put them at odds with law enforcement and military personnel. The Coda rose up, Emp vanished, others drifted away and things separated the last few remnants of the Kherans on Earth from one another. But Spartan never rests. He never has. He exhumed the Dreadnought from it's resting place, and had it tipped on end, then fired it up, bringing life to Void once more and slowly, painstakingly, made from the downed ship, a new home. Staring up at the trio of towers that makes up the campus of Halo Corp, Zealot can plainly see the familiar lines, the shapes, of the beloved ship. The ship Spartan made into his sky rise empire. After they lost touch and Zealot sought out her sisters, it must have come as something of a shock to see Hadrian's face on the cover of Time magazine, to read of multi-billion dollar empire, his massive business arrangements, and realize he made Halo into something not even Emp could have managed. And now... it just seems so odd, and yet, so fitting. As she enters the main building, her steps clicking on the marble floor, echoing, a soft red glow lights up around the doors and security personnel instantly move, stiffening slightly, hands hovering near hips and open coats, "Ma'am. I'm going to have to ask you to remain where you are and come this way." says the lead man, a large fellow whose bearing screams of discipline, confidence, and skill. Military. Hadrian always loved his soldiers. "It would appear you're carrying a weapon, we're going to need to ask you some questions." Maybe she should have called to make an appointment... The road that has brought Zealot to the doors of Halo Towers is a twisted and bloody tale, best confined to the shadows that she has been calling home these past few years. Today she has discarded her ceremonial Coda uniform in favour of a slate grey trouser suit with matching jacket, a pair of reflective sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Somewhat at odds with the outfit is the long silver case held in one hand, evoking the look of a pool hustler, if a particularly well cultured example. A rueful smile is on her lips as she enters Halo Towers, the after-effect of recognising the Kheran dreadnoughts outline despite it's crisp corporate makeover. Zealot pointedly clears her throat as the inevitable security precautions are tripped. This was not unexpected, after all if she wanted to approach the situation covertly she would have hardly used the front door. The barely perceptible smile she was wearing evaporates as the well built corporate security man approaches her. As he stands before her, he'll notice that she is actually looking /down/ at him, if only from a vantage point of a couple of inches. She peers over her sunglasses, her icy blue gaze unwavering. "Which will it be? Remain where I stand or follow your lead? I can hardly do both." Zealots grip on the cases handle intensifies, with the sound of creaking leather. "If you insist. Though I feel the need to inform you that my answers may not be to your liking." The man stares at her, undaunted... because those are his orders and he follows orders. Hadrian was never Coda, but he was the best soldier the Kheran's ever produced. He's never let go of that, not even when he died and was crammed in a metal shell. He surrounds himself with like minded people, men who place things like duty and honor higher on the list of personal priorities then petty things like survival. "This way." he says, jerking his head to the side, across the long open floor space there are banks of elevators, but hidden in the only corner where the sunlight pouring through the glass walled entrance doesn't quite reach, casting a small pool of shadow, a piece of the wall slides away on silent actuators. Just like the Dreadnaught. The men fall in around her, close enough to get a grip on her if needed, but a few remain far enough away that she couldn't reach them in a single motion. Well trained. Two of them remain in her blind spot. As they move out of the area, escorting her, more men seem to melt into place from other hidden wall panels, taking the place of the escorting men. Well oiled machine this place. The panel leads to a hall, which passes more of the panel like doors, winds a couple of corners, and eventually the group stops at one of the featureless panels which opens up with a hiss, showing a room with a metal table bolted to the floor, chairs, also bolted to the floor, and no other color but white. With lots of lights. It's a little blinding actually. It makes guessing the exact dimensions of the room hard, as there's no depth of shadow to figure it out, though after some effort it's obvious that the room is larger then it first appears. Meant to keep someone off balance. Kheran interrogation technique. "We'll need the case, to search you for other weapons, your sunglasses, and some ID. Once that is done and you check out, we'll discuss your purpose here." the man says. One of the security men takes up a position in each corner of the room, the rest disappear and the panel door sides shut, leaving a seamless wall in it's place, giving the room the feeling that there's no way out. "Case, ID, glasses, on the table, you over there to be searched." he nods at one of the other men who seems to be waiting patiently. A glitter of something resembling amusement sparkles in Zealots eyes as she notes the guards inner steel, while her eyebrows quirk near-imperceptibly. "Very well," she responds curtly before following, a quick flick of her eyes quickly taking in the evidence of the hidden wall panels as they disgorge more suits to increase her entourage. Zealot fights down the urge to chuckle as she is surrounded by security personnel. "All this is for my benefit? I'm positively flattered." What good humour Zealot may be possessed of visibly drains away as they emerge into the brilliantly lit whitewashed room, further exacerbated by the riot act which is suddenly read to her. She lets out a weary breath before moistening her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. "I sincerely congratulate you on your adherence to duty and protocol. Your employer always did pride himself on choosing the best. Let me save you some effort." Zealot lifts the case on to the table, before opening the clasps in a very deliberate and slow motion, revealing the deadly Kheran warblade nested within. "This weapon is incredibly ancient, one of the last of its kind. It also belongs to me and as such, it will not be leaving my person." She leaves the case open on the table, before turning to regard the man who first addressed her. "I give you my solemn word that I am possessed of no other weapons and I do not mean your employer or his vaunted corporation any harm. I also promise you that if you or one of your men lays a finger on my person, I will break every bone in his hand." Zealot clears her throat before continuing. "I would look upon it as a great courtesy if you could inform 'Mister Marlowe' that Lady Zannah wishes to speak with him." The men in the room don't move, except the one who's done all the talking. He eyes the open case, nodding at it's contents, and then listens to her entire spiel. When she says her name, he seems to stiffen slightly. "Did you get that?" he asks, and a moment later a spherical robot drops from a previously invisible slot in the ceiling, about the size of a volley ball, it's a Kheran designed droid, a multi purpose bot who's kit can be rigged for anything from assassination, to combat, to janitorial, to chef. They really are ubiquitous on most Kheran crafts but Zealot's not seen one functioning in /thousands/ of years. Not since the crash. It hovers just before her for a moment, humming as it scans her features, then it vanishes up into the ceiling as quickly as it appeared. "Understood." the man says. He reaches over and closes the case with a hand and lifts it, offering it up to her as one would usually offer a katana to a warrior, lengthwise across his palms. Except, it's the whole case of course, which is kinda heavy. "Our apologies. You've been added to our security files and company Identification will be issues to you within the next hour. If you follow us we'll take you directly to Mr. Marlowe's office he seems fairly insistent that he see you." there's almost the hint of a smile on the man's lips, and all the tension seems to have leached out of the room instantly. The panel door slides open once more, showing the way out into the hall. Zealots expression doesn't waver as the guard clearly communicates with someone higher up the HALO totem pole. As the droid drops from the ceiling, her eyes narrow, fingers creeping fractionally closer towards the hilt of her blade, while she keeps a wary eye on the Kheran robot as it scans her. Zealot quirks an eyebrow as the droid disappears. "Did I pass the inspection?" she calls after it mockingly. She peers at the guard as he shuts the sword case, ready to offer a pointed comment, before he hands it to her respectfully. Zealot relieves the guard of the case, her head nodding fractionally. "Very well. It would have been unseemly to damage Mister Marlowe's human...resources." The tension may have ebbed from the room, but Zealot still seems as tightly wound as when she entered the interrogation room, though her expression has softened. "Please lead the way. I'm intrigued to see how many more guards are secreted in the walls of this place." The leading man's lips actually do soften into something almost like a smile at her words as he turns to lead the way, "I wouldn't concern myself if I were you ma'am. You'll never see them to count." he says confidently as he leads her down the twisty hall, past the last security check, to the elevators, and then using a Kheran Key Crystal, triggers the express ride straight to the top. She's alone in the elevator with him now, all the rest of her escort peeling off to their previous duties as they walked. The ride to the top isn't long before the doors open onto a large open room with a few comfortable looking chairs for sitting and a small hallway. The man leads her down that way and then past a gorgeous woman sitting at a her hands flying over a three dimensional computer display that's also straight out of Kheran tech. She seems to work it with exceptional skill. Other then a single glance cast their way, she ignores them, continuing her conversation in Mandarin with someone presumably in China. The man holds open one of a pair of large wooden doors, and steps aside, ushering her to enter without him. Welcome to the throne room it would seem... Zealots gaze flicks towards the guard as they enter the elevator, her expression neutral. "A commendable strategy. Though I fear they might quickly get bored in such a confined space." She turns her gaze forward and stands in silence for the rest of the journey. The amount of functional Kheran tech openly on display is a feature not lost on Zealot as they wend their way through the inner sanctum of the HALO tower. Her expression darkens, her lips becoming down-turned in something of a frown, unsure how she feels about Kheran know-how being so firmly in the grasp of humanity. As a courtesy, Zealot chooses to ignore the conversation being conducted by the receptionist, her grasp of Mandarin more than adequate to discern what is being said. As her 'escort' opens the door to the final obstacle, she offers him nothing more than a curt nod of her head in thanks. With that, she steps over the threshold, pausing only to to straighten an errant crease in her jacket. Which is all the time it takes for her to be wrapped in a rib squeezing embrace. Wearing a white suit and with a model of Spartan that she can feel is... remarkably fleshy and life like (someone's been making upgrades it would appear) Hadrian has apparently been waiting impatiently for her make it up to the office, "Zannah." he says almost breathlessly, squeezing her a little tighter and literally lifting her a couple of inches from the floor despite her being taller then him. While Zealot doesn't interpret the Spartan's rush towards her as a threat, it's all she can do to repress the instinct to evade his crushing embrace, her usual composure departing for a moment, as she gives the office behind Spartans shoulder a panicked look. "Nnk. Hadrian. It is...good to see you." She waits for a moment, assuming that will be all, but suddenly she is lifted clean off of the floor as the hug is maintained. Zealots empty hand clenches into a fist, the other maintaining a death grip on her sword case and her expression becomes strained. "Please, Hadrian, this demeans us both. Please put me down." To reinforce her plea, she flexes her not-inconsiderable strength against Spartan's own. Spartan's arms loosen their grip ever so slightly, and usually stoic soldier is grinning ear to ear as he sets her back down on her feet, "We could both use a little demeaning from time to time Zannah." he says, holding her at arm's length, a hand on each shoulder, so he can look her up and down. "You cut your hair." he says after a moment, "I always told you it was impractical in battle." He squeezes her shoulders once more, then seems to have reached his own PDA limit and turns to walk back towards the deck far across the room, "Apologies, I was beginning to think there were none of us left, that I was alone. It is good to see you." his words are all in Kheran, foregoing Earth dialects entirely. For himself, he looks... exactly as she remembered the original Yohn looking. Spartan always had an 'otherness' about him, something in the way he moved, the fainted click or whir of machinery when silence fell, he blinked to little or to often, his skin didn't move /quite/ correctly for his face... But this Spartan does not suffer from those weaknesses it would appear. This upgraded chassis appears so very life like she may have thought it a clone if not for how her pushing against his arms had been met with such resistance. Zealots usual composure has mostly reasserted itself as she is set back down on to the office floor. "Thank you." She seems to relax, if only fractionally. "I agree, a little humility makes for a memorable lesson, but there are limits even amongst old friends." As Spartan mentions her hairstyle Zealot shrugs non-committally before her gaze flicks towards an empty corner of the office. "I simply decided it was time for a change. Though I still maintain my prowess in battle was never affected by something as mundane as the length of my hair." She smooths the creases in her jacket while Spartans back is turned, watching him walk away. "You should know be better than that, Hadrian. There are few things on this planet that could best a warrior priestess of the Coda. I'm sorry if my absence caused you any concern but I had...pressing matters to deal with." Zealots gaze takes in the sight of the office properly for the first time and a ghost of a smile creeps on to her lips. "I would ask how you were faring, but I think I already have my answer. I must admit this is not what I expected of you at all. You seem to have taken the Lord Emps love of human materialism to the next level." Spartan chuckles softly, "You've tried before, you've never been fully successful." he points out. She may have been Coda, but before he was a robot he was genetically designed to be the greatest soldier their people had ever known. It's not just pewpew lasers and metal body parts. He's a warrior, every bit as old as her. "Besides. I've upgraded." he adds teasingly. His tone grows more serious as she speaks, "The Coda, I heard. I made sure you weren't hassled to greatly when crossing the occasional national boundaries, when I could find you that is. You wouldn't let me actually /help/, but I figured it was the least I could do." he reaches his desk and turns to face her, "This is a show," he says waving a hand at the room, "for the human's I have to placate or impress. You know me better then that. While you fought your personal battles, the War has continued unabated in your absence..." he's quiet for a long moment. "I have a team. So very very young, but very promising. They are arrogant, foolish, loud, mouthy, and stupidly courageous. Much like we used to be." a smile flickers over his lips at a random memory, "But they have power the likes of which we never wielded against the Daem." he looks down at his hand, "Well, until recently." his tone darkening again. "I'm training them, molding them... While you were off cleaning up, we saw him again. He's finally come out of hiding Zannah. Helspont's back." Of all of the Kheran's in the multiverse, Majestros and Hadrian hold special places of single minded hatred for the Daem Helspont. Zealot fixes her gaze on Spartan, her lips pursing slightly at the talk of 'upgrades'. "I noticed. I wouldn't /dream/ of passing judgement on the nature of your various self-improvements." That ghost of a smile appears on her face again. Which promptly vanishes when Hadrian mentions the Coda. "I see. There were times that even I was surprised at the humans incompetence in restricting my movements. That is one mystery solved. I'm frankly surprised you approved of my actions at all." Zealot lowers her sword case to the floor and folds her arms across her chest. "With all due respect, there was good reason for not seeking your help, Hadrian. I didn't require it. I also doubted that the great 'Jack Marlowe' would want to freely associate with a mass murderer." Zealot lets out a breath before lowering her gaze to the floor. "Still, honour and etiquette requires me to thank you for your help. Thank you." Zealot raises an eyebrow as Spartan mentions his new team. "I doubt anyone could have been as misguided as us at the very beginning." A cold expression fixes itself onto Zealots face at mention of the Daemonites. "It never truly ends, does it?" Zealot visibly stiffens as Spartan says Helsponts name. "I thought he was dead. Perhaps I merely wished it so and I came to believe it as truth." Zannah lets out a breath and runs a hand through her hair, her jaw clenching for a moment. "I didn't abandon my duty all these years, Hadrian. I knew the Daem were still out there. I hunted them where I found their spoor. But I couldn't let the Coda continue unchecked. I doubt I could make you understand." Zealot takes a deep breath before continuing. "Are they up to the task before them? These new warriors of yours?" Spartan's settles into the most familiar stoic expression, "I didn't." he says firmly, "But I had no place passing judgement on the Coda, they were always yours to deal with as you saw fit. And you are my friend." so, he chose to help his friend, even if he didn't like what she was doing. Loyalty was never a weakness for Hadrian. "Asking for help from a friend is never about need Zannah, it has always been about the desire to realize you are not alone. Not unless you want to be." it's an old argument and one he waves away before it can drudge up old shouting matches. Five thousand years is a long time to know someone, and resentments can often run deeper then reason or logic... but never deeper then the ties that bind. The Kheran's are complicated. "You didn't abandon your duty, you simply had a more pressing one. As did I. I don't judge you for what you did or how you did it, not even a little. As for my new soldiers..." he leans back on the desk and strikes a thoughtful pose that is so reminiscent of Yohn, before his mind went into the robot, that it causes after images of memory. "Some of them, without a doubt, others..." he grimaces. "They are troubled, as we were, they are powerful as we were not, they are driven by vastly different motivations but when things heat up they've never once hesitated." he eyes her, "Up to the task, only time will tell. But I suspect they may be. If I can keep them focused. There are more distractions for them then there were for us, more forces pulling them in different directions, often it is like herding cattle. It is wh-" he stops, "I almost forgot! Look who I managed to save along with the Dreadnought." he grins again, "Void!" and a holographic image of a woman in a silver body stocking shimmers into existence in the room, "Lady Zealot." she says in greeting, as distant and formal as ever. The supercomputer was ever that way, or almost ever. She was rarely emotional. Zealot nods curtly to Spartan, turning inward for a moment, wondering if those few years spent in near isolation in bloody pursuit of the Coda might have changed her more than she would readily admit. "I did not mean to discard old associations so readily, Hadrian. I owe you more than that. Let us talk of it no more." Zealot listens intently to Spartans talk of his new team mates with professional detachment. "It is difficult for natives of this planet to focus on such a singular goal. In truth this world is more complex now than I ever remember it being. I am not surprised some of them lack the necessary discipline." Her expression turns to one of puzzlement as Hadrian checks himself mid sentence. In truth, Zannah has difficulty witnessing Spartan being so...cheerful. As the hologram of Void manifests in the room, Zealots eyes narrow. "Void. I am glad to see you...intact." Her gaze flicks to Hadrian. "I saw a substantial amount of Kheran technology openly displayed on my way to your...office. I am glad to see that you have restored its functionality, but do you think it wise to put it in the hands of the humans?" Spartan shakes his head, "Void runs Halo, not the other way around. She's in no ones hands... she never has been." he reminds her. No one 'handled' Void, she decided what to tell them and they just took it in stride. Like the Kherans have done with all of the Eleven of Void's kind. "As for the tech... it's not what it looks like. I advanced computer stations with out portable technology, but it remains human tech, only with projecting screens and accurate motion capture technologies. It /looks/ Kheran, but in reality it's nothing more then a facelift and slight improvements over their existing gear. It's not like I'm making weapons for them." because that would just be /terrifying/. "Most of the Dreadnought is up and running, repairs have moved much most smoothly since I was able to split my consciousness and run drones, but I no longer seek to build a ship, but rather a home. Our war continues and returning to Khera without completing our mission is not acceptable. When the Daem are gone, when this world is safe, I will make this once mroe a ship. Until then..." he shrugs. "I fortify... But I do not advance the humans to greatly." he pauses again, "Besides, have you not seen the leaps Stark, Luthor, Wayne, Richards, even that Von Doom fellow are making? They possess savants that are leaping centuries of development." Zealot's expression softens slightly. "I did not think you would be so careless with our legacy, but it was a concern I needed to give voice to. The natives of this planet have an unfortunate tendency to harness powers they barely understand." An unreadable expression crosses her face at talk of getting the dreadnought fully operational. "I scarcely believed this ship was salvageable, yet alone capable of being restored to a space-worthy state. But you are right. The war still continues and we were the ones responsible for bringing it here. It is simply a matter of duty." Zealot chuckles at mention of Earths inventive geniuses, both heroic and otherwise. "I am not fond of this centuries 'social media' but their meddling is hard to miss. They still have some considerable time before they equal Kheran scientific advances, though what damage they will inflict on this planet before they are done it is difficult to say." Spartan nods his agreement, "They are children with sticks and stones beating about and one of them has suddenly discovered fusion having skipped all the steps between that would have taught them how to safely handle it. Eventually, one day, they will discover the Bleed, not merely the dimension hopping about that they seem to so enjoy, but truly discover it. I fear what will happen when that day comes." his expression hardens. "I imagine it will not go well." he waves away such things, "Those are concerns for tomorrow. Today I am trying to turn a Hell Queen, a Kryptonian, a Terra-kinetic, a unwillingly cyberized speedster with amnesia, a time travelling psionic, a flight enhanced meta gene carrying monk woman, and the sword dealing daughter of the most efficient killer I've ever seen into a cohesive unit. Were she a different woman I would have suggested Ravager for Coda training, but honestly she's... damaged. In a way you cannot fix. But she does remind me a bit of you when you were younger, brash, opinionated, devil may care attitude, skilled... Heh. You'll either love her or hate her. Either way, it'll be worth seeing." he pushes off of the desk, "These are the challenges of today, for me at least, and as always, you are more then welcome to at least bare witness. I will be granting you clearance to the building, though without the team's consent I will ask for your word that you will not visit their private quarters and respect their privacy. The team, Stormwatch, is it's own unit. If you wish to add your might to our own I suggest you make friends of them. I don't have any more say in who's a part of this then they do. We're all very democratic it would appear." he offers a wan smile. In short, if she's looking to get back in the fight with a team, she's gonna have to get voted in. No free Kheran passes here. Zealot looks out of one of the office windows, regarding the world at large for a moment. "Quite. It is certain we will be there to witness it, for good or ill. It will be a spectacle at the very least." Zealot returns her attention to Hadrian as he talks once again of his new team, her expression taking on an air of bemusement as he rattles off the eclectic descriptions of the new fledgeling Stormwatch. "That sounds like a monumental task indeed. I wish you luck in the endeavour." Zealot inclines her head to one side when the discussion turns to Ravager. "Hadrian. I'm hurt. I thought /I/ was the most efficient killer you've ever met. Clearly I need to sharpen my skills. She sounds positively charming." However when Spartan mentions dispensing Coda training even in passing, her face darkens. "No. Never again. That is a mistake I do not intend to repeat." Zealots gaze intensifies on the android entrepreneur as he stands. "I appreciate the gesture, Hadrian, thank you. I might even make an appearance from time to time, even if it is merely to menace your incredibly efficient security detail. I have no desire to impose myself on your new team like an unwanted relative. It sounds as if you have your hands more than full already. Perhaps if their paths cross with mine I might endear myself to them in time." A rueful smile crosses Zealots lips, her voice near dripping with sarcasm. She reaches down and picks up the sword case from its resting place. "In the mean time if you ever need the services of the /second/ most efficient killer on the planet...don't hesitate to contact me." She extends her free hand in a gesture of respect. Spartan walks over and takes her hand, "You're a fine warrior Zannah, always have been, but much like with their tech, these humans excel at killing things like few species we've ever encountered." his face darkens, "In all seriousness, do not seek him out. You may not like what you find." or more disturbing to Hadrian is the danger that she may like it to much. "You are ever welcome old friend, and should you ever want help..." he offers that same small smile, "Well. You know." The grip forearm to forearm and firm. Five thousand years of history rests on their shoulders, five millennia of war and death and loss and suffering. Of camaraderie and friendship and more... some days it feels like the weight of worlds. Today, Hadrian doesn't feel a thing. It's enough to know for certain that he's not alone. Then the moment passes and Duty calls, "My secretary has been stalling the Chinese Ambassador for nearly an hour, I really should take his call. Please make yourself at home, in fact your old quarters are open and available to you. Not much survived the crash, but the room is otherwise as you left it, just shifted down to the new floor. It's good to see you Zannah." Void, having said no more after her appearance watches Zealot with the same impassive thoughtful face she's always had, with the eyes that see through people to what lays beyond them. She offers not but a nod before shimmering from sight and vanishing. "Hello, Ambassador? My apologies, an emergency came up that required my attention but now I am all yours..." Category:Log